


Ante, In, Secundum

by beskar_kyber15



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, CC-3636 | Wolffe is a Little Shit, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Mild Language, Oral Sex, Order 66 (Star Wars), Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Potential Pregnancy Hint, Pre-Order 66 (Star Wars), Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-27 10:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30121200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beskar_kyber15/pseuds/beskar_kyber15
Summary: Before, During, AfterA three-part journey of Wolffe and reader as they navigate war and love in a time when neither is certain and tomorrow may never come.
Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Original Character(s), CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Ante

He knew of her. They all did. How could he not? She was the only thing that stood out from a sea of identical faces and long-necked aliens. It was akin to a flame the way her hair burned and reflected in the harsh fluorescents of the cloning facility, a spark of color in an otherwise monochromatic existence.

CC-3636, otherwise known as Wolffe, shook his head. It was only because she was the only woman in a sea of raging, identical testosterone that everyone AND his brother had it bad for her. Wolffe itched to leave the facility as soon as possible just so he'd have the excuse of being away from home and in the midst of battle to get her off his mind. That still didn't stop him from showing up to the training room way before anyone else to be in her proximity every single day.

***

She knew of him. How could she not? In a sea of identical faces, she never for one second got any of them confused. She had seen them all grow from children into warriors with one deadly purpose. They were ready, now it was just a waiting game to see when or if that time would come. This one, CC-3636 ( _Wolffe_...she reminded herself) was part of the Commander unit, clones bred and trained to lead others into battle and him, along with CC-2224 ( _Cody_ ), and CC-5052 ( _Bly_ ) were top in their respective classes and would be the first divisions deployed when the time came. Her heart twisted a little; deadly warriors the lot of them, but still children in so many ways, untested by true battle and the weight of existence while those around you died.

She hadn't planned on staying on Kamino as long as she had. Jango had initially contacted her for short-term training, her experience in battle command and weapons training on Concordia made her an ideal recruit (along with a few other of his _vod_ ) for honing the Commander Corps into an elite group that was equipped to lead men and protect their Jedi generals to an almost inhuman degree. She was so proud of them and had formed many a friendship with the men who shared her sponsor's face...but this one, Wolffe, remained an enigma. 

He had taken the name after his brother's continued comments that his unit was like a pack around him (and their wild yelpings and noise the week following their 'graduation' hadn't helped)...hence the moniker 'Wolfpack' for the 104th Clone Division. Where she had been able to form close, almost brotherly, friendships with the other commanders as she trained them, Wolffe continued to remain standoffish to the point of her asking the Kaminoan in charge of Wolffe's growth tube whether something had happened. This ended with a frustrating roundabout of "It's just Wolffe, his tube was a little too small to hold that ego." She didn't know why it bothered her so much; he would be sent off to war soon enough and she would be given a new batch of shinies to train. That still didn't stop her from going to the training room every morning before the others arrived just to be in his proximity.

***

This had been going on for weeks, the two of them working alone and in perfect silence, but others had still taken notice. One of Wolffe's men, Sinker, had been overheard making lewd comments regarding "private instruction" and Wolffe had responded before she could correct him, snarling so viciously at the man that he almost lived up to his name. She had smiled to herself before calling the men to attention for that day, although the absolute ferocity in Wolffe's tone, the aggressive display of dominance, commander to subordinate, found her a little flushed and wanting that night.

Stars, it shouldn't be happening, it couldn't. As his instructor, she was duty-bound to ensure the greatest rates of survival for the men under her tutelage and any distractions of a... _carnal_ nature could be deadly in the field of battle. With Wolffe's position as commander, it was even more precarious as he had to care for the entire division, not just himself, and she knew from experience that good men did terrible things to ensure their own survival when push came to shove. 

No. It was better this way.

***

The rather abrupt arrival of the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and his subsequent departure in pursuit of Jango had her working overtime. The Republic teetered on the brink of war and soon, very soon, the men would be needed and sent into battle. She pushed them relentlessly, workload now doubled as Jango's departure left her and the other instructors in command of the entire army. Hours blurred into days, and she felt her irritation and exhaustion grow, finally ending one session snarling so viciously at one of Cody's men that the usually soft-spoken clone had barked back.

"With all due respect Commander, take a walk. I can finish drills for the day."

She had been so taken aback, so ashamed of the way she had treated her friends, that with barely a nod she strode out of the training complex and blindly back to her quarters, muscle memory leading the way. The door had hissed open quietly, Kaminoan technology as flawless as ever, and she snatched a glowing blue drink from her pantry. Not bothering with a glass, she took a heavy slug, ignoring the burning in her throat.

Sinking heavily into a plush cream-colored, egg-shaped chair in the center of the living quarters, she ran a free hand across her face, the other still gripping the liquor. Cody was right, she needed a break from the relentless comms, drills, and schematics...maybe a day or two holed up in her quarters with a trashy romantic holo was what she needed. Anything to keep her mind off the fact that her friends were about to be sent off into battle to die. 

She had tried not to get attached, she really had. But when you spend five years of your life training someone to move as one, to live, fight, and die as bright and as fast as a dying supernova, emotions were bound to come into the picture. She was no Jedi, had no qualms about emotions, but their strength and intensity scared her and she didn’t know what she would do when the time truly came for war. 

A quiet beep interrupted her reviere and a voice, identical to thousands, yet she would know it anywhere, said quietly through the speaker, “Commander?”

_Wolffe_.

Placing the bottle down next to the chair, she rose unsteadily, alcohol and an empty stomach making for a quick combination, and walked over to the door. Her finger wavered over the button; she wasn’t naive enough to think that Wolffe’s visit was a coincidence, but she also wasn’t sure if she was ready for what she wanted to happen when the door opened. 

Depressing the switch, it slid open to find Wolffe, body half-turned as if to leave, but froze as she came into view. Snapping to attention, body stiff and ramrod straight, Wolffe said briskly, “Commander...I ah-wanted to see if you were alright and-”

He was cut off as she pressed her lips to his, dragging him into her quarters. His lips were warm and dry, but stiff with surprise and she pulled back, eyes wide with alarm.

“I’m so sorry Wolffe. I don’t know what happened, that was inappropriate...the stress must be getting to me.”

Turning away to hide the flush creeping up her cheeks, she walked back toward the chair and snatched the bottle of spotchka. Taking another swig, she strode back into the kitchen and reached up to place the bottle firmly on one of the highest shelves, but it was out of reach. Growling with frustration, she leapt onto the countertop, using her knees to haul her up, and abruptly pitched backwards as her equilibrium, still slightly off from the initial drinks she had taken, caught her off-guard. 

Curling in on herself to decrease the impact, she was surprised her back hit not tile, but warmth. Wolffe had followed her into the kitchen and had caught her, arms wrapping around her torso as her back slammed into his chest. Tilting her head up slightly to meet his gaze, she was surprised to find sardonic amusement looking back at her, gold eyes crinkling slightly.

“I think that’s enough for the night, don’t you?”

“I’m your Commander, I don’t think you giving me orders is in the reg manuals anywhere.”

“It is when the Commander is deemed unfit for duty.”

It was said lightly, amusement in the tone, but her temper flared and she disentangled herself from Wolffe’s embrace. 

“Unfit for duty? Is that what they’re all saying? That I’m too fragile, too emotional, to command?”

Wolffe’s hands raised in mock surrender as she snarled at him. _She would make a good addition to Wolfpack_ , he thought as she paced back and forth in front of him.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said coolly. 

That only served to rile her up even more. “Then what did you mean Commander Wolffe?”

_Stars above._

Taking a breath to calm his own rising temper, Wolffe said, “I meant that right now, you are being pulled in every conceivable direction, asked to do the job of at least ten people, and while you have been doing an exceptional job and no one doubts your commitment, it is not possible to keep up for long periods of time and I am respectfully requesting _Commander_ that you take a day or two to rest. Until then, Bly, Cody, and I can take on some of the training duties...administrative work can be left for a moment.”

He watched her deflate, shoulders sagging with exhaustion, and she rubbed her face, hands trailing through her hair. 

Sighing deeply, she said quietly, “You’re right. Thank you Wolffe...I knew what you meant, it’s just...everything’s happening so quickly. You and your brothers are more than ready and I know you’ll do your job admirably, but-”

“-but you still care. And that’s why you’re so good at what you do. I’ve seen you training in the mornings Commander. You lead by example and practice what you preach, that’s why any of my brothers...why _I_ would follow you straight into the Sarlacc’s mouth if you asked.”

It was the first time either of them had even acknowledged the silent routine they had both been engaged in for months. Together, yet apart, separated by duty, rank, and responsibility. The shadow of the forbidden always loomed at the front of both of their minds, and she knew as well as Wolffe what was going to be asked of them in the coming months. 

Honesty, sometimes brutal, was one of Wolffe’s many strengths, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he meant every word that left his mouth and her eyes flickered to said mouth in question, remembering just how soft that it had felt just a few minutes before…

Clearing her throat, she said in a strangled voice that sounded foriegn to her own ears, “You should go.”

He took a step toward her, the barest bit of space left between them, as he brought his face flush to hers.

“Is that an order Commander?” His breath tickled her cheek and she raised her gaze to lock onto his. They were dark, eyes narrowed, with just a ghost of teasing behind them, but she knew that Wolffe would not disobey if she said yes…

It was what made him a good soldier after all.

For the second time, she pressed her lips to his and this time, he responded eagerly. Large, warm hands engulfed her torso and pressed her against his body and she could feel every muscle, hardened from years of training and combat, as she flattened her hands against his chest. One of Wolffe’s hands stayed on her lower back, firmly keeping her pressed against him, as the other slid up to card through her unbound hair. He tugged gently on it and she gasped, Wolffe’s tongue sliding into her mouth.

Her blood boiled, as if every nerve ending was on fire, as she met his embrace just as eagerly, the two of them giving and taking of the other’s breaths as if they were trying to keep the other alive through where their mouths met.

Finally pulling back for air, she sucked in a deep breath and saw Wolffe’s eyes, already dark, absolutely consumed, the gold little more than flecks at the corners. His lips were swollen and she knew had to look similar; one hand still tangled in her hair. Reaching up to cradle his face, she kissed him softly, earning a small groan from the clone commander as her body pressed up against the straining erection in his uniform. 

“Follow me.”

She took his hand and led him into her room. He followed silently, hand engulfing hers as the door slid shut behind them. Wolffe moved to embrace her once more, but she placed a firm hand on his chest as she steadily met his gaze.

“This is not me as commander, nor you as a trooper. This is us as equals and will be for as long as we both wish. If you want to stop or leave, say “wolfpack” and we will, no questions ever.”

Wolffe looked shocked, as if he had never considered that he would be treated as an equal or that he even had a choice, and her heart twisted a little as he nodded sharply, and responded, “The same goes for you commander-”

She stepped forward lightly, steps barely making a sound on the carpet, and pressed her lips to his ear and whispered her name…her _real_ name, not the moniker she had taken when she had agreed to Jango’s deal all those years ago. She had no material possessions, save for her armor, and had refused to part with it for anything. She had nothing but her name to give a man whose entire existence had been carefully weighed, measured, and examined since before birth for basic survival and optimization, born and bred to die. It was all she had to offer and knew that Wolffe understood.

Wolffe shuddered at the whisper of breath as it caressed his face and, pressing his lips to her hair, murmured it back, as reverental as a prayer. A small thrill ran through the pair of them as it hung in the air, the only signal that something had irrevocably changed between what had been to this point, commander and trooper.

Wolffe cradled her face in his hands and brought his mouth back down to hers. Her hands flew up into his military-reg shorn hair and he groaned into her mouth as she gently scratched his scalp.

Briefly breaking apart, he said softly against her mouth, “I’ve never...I mean this is-”

“I’ll make it feel good, trust me.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Her heart swelled and she pressed another kiss to Wolffe as she began to undress him. The uniform was simple enough and she thanked the Maker he wasn’t in his armor as the tunic and trousers slid easily off his body. He was a true feat of science, body honed by careful nutrition and strict regime that kept him battle-ready at a moment’s notice, and while she knew that every clone looked the same, nothing would be able to hide the fact that it was _Wolffe_ looking at her with the heat of Tatooine's twin suns, searing her skin and making her feel as bare as though she were already undressed.

She quickly rectified that situation, shucking off her own tunic and trousers and stepped out of them, toward Wolffe. His breath caught as their skin met and she nearly rolled her eyes back in her head at the searing heat that was radiating off the man’s body. He was like a furnace as he clutched and kissed her again. This time, there was a new hunger, a new desire in the movements, and his hands roamed all over her, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling and she responded in kind, hands running down his firm pectorals and lower to gently brush a finger along his cock.

Wolffe sucked in a gasp, throwing his head back as she slowly sunk to her knees in front of him. 

“Trust me,” she whispered again, running her hands up the back of his legs and giving his firm ass a squeeze as she moved forward and slid his cock into her mouth. 

It was instantaneous. Wolffe’s hands flew to her hair and carded themselves through again, throwing her forward and almost making her gag as he hit the back of her throat. Pulling back slightly, she took a deep breath through her nose and began to move. 

“ _Cyar’ika_ …” the Mando’a word for beautiful, beloved, ripped from Wolffe involuntarily as he felt something so soft, warm, and all-encompassing simply devour him from the inside out and his hips began to move involuntarily with her movements, a tightness growing in him that was better than any battle-fueled adrenaline he could have asked for.

Moaning softly at Wolffe’s quiet pants and groans, her own hand snaked between her legs and began rubbing softly, trying to soothe the ache that had been building since seeing Wolffe at her door. With a pop, she pulled off of him and he looked down, eyes hazy and glazed with lust. Seeing her moving hands, he growled softly, living up to his name, as golden eyes burned in the dim lighting.

“What do you need _cyar’ika_? Tell your commander.”

Her brain was too lost in keeping her fingers moving to care that she basically whined. “You Wolffe. I need you.”

It was enough. Wolffe swept her off her feet and cradled her gently despite his instinct to push her onto the floor and take her then and there, and placed her on the bed, crawling so he hovered above her on his elbows. 

They held there for a moment, golden eyes staring into dark ones, until she surged upwards. Wolffe tasted himself on her tongue and it served only to spur him further, hand traveling down her chest and abdomen to where her own had been only moments before.

Brushing her clit, he was rewarded with a small gasp and moan as her hips bucked up to meet his, need nearly blinding the pair of them.

“Fuck...Wolffe. Please.”

Lost in a haze of pleasure, Wolffe took his cock and lined it up to her entrance and slowly sunk in, head falling to the crook of her neck as her core engulfed and fit him oh-so-perfectly. Nails dug into his back as he began to move, hips rocking slowly against hers as they both finally gave in. Pain pushed out pleasure and became an intoxicating mix as their mouths met again, tongues swirling against the other, pushing and pulling as their bodies did the same. Wolffe didn’t know where he ended and she began, the heat and the scent of sex all-consuming, and as he began to move faster, she responded in kind. It was though they were two halves of the same warrior, bodies moving in synchronicity born from years of training side-by-side, and as her moans and pants grew more frantic, he knew that her release was near.

“Wolffe…” Her heels dug into his back and his next thrust hit so deep that her back arched. With a cry and clenching of muscle, she came, whispering Wolffe’s name the entire time.

Wolffe followed shortly after, the sight of her writhing and moaning his name beneath him too much. Groaning, he kissed her, messy and desperate, as they both brought their bodies down from the all-consuming high. 

Breaking apart, she sighed and her hand snaked from Wolffe’s back to his face, tracing his cheekbone softly with her thumb. He leaned into the touch, pressing his lips to the heel of her hand as he gently rolled off of her. Missing his warmth already, she scooted over to his side and curled against him, head on his chest and idly tracing the hard ridges of muscle. Wolffe simply wrapped his arms around her and they both simply lay in silence for a few moments. Wolffe was a man of few words, preferring to let his blaster or a quip do the talking so it didn’t bother her as the silence began to stretch on . It was comfortable, born of shared intimacy and absolute trust, and Wolffe pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head as he whispered, “You know what’s coming.”

“Yes,” she whispered back. “But at least there was something good that came from this, if only once.”

“I certainly hope not commander.” The teasing lilt was back and she looked up to see a small grin playing at the corners of Wolffe’s mouth.

“Only once? Stars, I must need more practice.” 

“Well…” Swinging herself onto Wolffe’s chest, she straddled his torso and said with a grin, “As they say, practice makes better.”

Bending forward, their lips met again and practice _certainly_ did make better.

***

Master Yoda arrived the next day.


	2. In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From her precarious perch on the table, she had an unobstructed view of the crowd, which made it easy to see as the door to 79s slid open and Wolffe stepped through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is purely just a fun WIP I've had sitting around for awhile. Hope you're all enjoying it as much as I've been enjoying writing it...Wolffe deserves all the love

War had begun and she felt it as keenly as if she was on the battlefield herself. It had been two years since Master Yoda had appeared the day after she and Wolffe had done...whatever it was that had been between them. That day she found herself watching as transports and Republic cruisers were loaded with thousands of men she knew and loved, but her eyes kept searching for one in particular. It was the briefest of glances, no more than a reflection of light against a visor, but she knew that he saw her from the balcony overlooking the staging area. She was surrounded by Senators and Kaminoans on every side so he didn’t dare acknowledge her, merely turned and walked up the ramp with the rest of the troops, being swallowed up by the monstrosity of the machine of war. 

The outbreak of the conflict had become both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because now that the Republic knew of the existence of the Kaminoan operations, they sent adequate funding and staffing to train even more clones, as well as relieve the administrative duties that she had single-handedly taken on. The downside was that she had been promoted the official representative of the GAR and made frequent trips to the Senate’s seat on Coruscant to plead her case for more funding and supplies for her men. It was tiresome, tedious work, but allowed her to keep abreast of the war as it raged and escalated throughout the coming months. While she couldn’t keep track of every clone in the army, she was able to track the commanders and their Jedi with relative ease. 

Rex and Anakin Skywalker made a formidable, if reckless, pair, while Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody were a perfect match, Cody’s evenness tempering out Obi-Wan’s more...reckless inclinations. The others had been matched as well, her recommendations based on her training observations throughout the years making ideal Jedi/Commander pairings that would allow for the greatest chance of victory with the smallest loss of life. That wasn’t to say there weren’t any losses...many clones had died the first day of the war on Geonosis, a pain that rippled keenly through the ranks. They were the oldest of their brothers, battle-ready and trained for those moments, but it still didn’t make her mourning any easier as the casualty list had come in that night. She read through each one every day following, attempting to keep her stomach from knots and praying to the Maker she would never see a familiar designation scroll across the screen.

Wolffe and Jedi Master Plo Koon were an odd pairing. The Jedi Master seemed to have a droll sense of humor, putting him in stark contrast to Wolffe’s more rigid line of thought, but there was little doubt of the other’s loyalty to the other as she read victory after victory. There had been a strained period of time when she’d had to send Wolffe an entirely new command after General Grievous had all but annihilated his initial command. Wolffe had been injured, but survived thanks to Plo Koon defending his men with a ferocity that surprised even her against the Seperatist droids. Their bond sealed, the division had found themselves with new men and new armor designating their losses and paying respect to their fallen brothers. For her part, she signed the transfer documents, watched the ship load, and wished with every fiber in her body that she could be up there with them.

***

79’s was a good place to go if one needed to get lost in a sea of identical faces and that’s exactly what she did after one particularly prickly session with the Senate. One half of the body thought that clones were no better than canon fodder, easily disposable and replaceable, while the other was petitioning for more humanitarian treatment of the clones, starting with finding a place for them to settle when the war was over.

“If the war ever gets over,” she muttered, downing another shot.

Of course, the men had instantly recognized her, years of command and training not easily forgotten, and she had found herself swept along in a sea of hugs, shouts, and drinks. The spinning had finally come to an end as she found herself leaning against the bar counter. The bartender, a friendly-looking Nautolan, had merely waved off her credits, “The boys love you and have told me alot about you Commander. Consider your tab permanently paid for.”

She knew better than to look a gift gundark in the mouth and had merely lifted her glass in thanks, turning back toward the open floor. Clones from every division and speciality strode across the room, black civvies a stark contrast to the scarlet and red of the on-duty Coruscanti troopers. She had met with Fox earlier that day and discussed various plans for adding to the division, the clones being stretched thin as it was, despite the help from the planet’s previously established security forces.

She was still mulling over how exactly she was going to get that particular motion through the Senate when a burst of noise at the door caught her attention. Craning her neck, she saw that three clones had just strode through the door and were whooping like a pack of...well...wolves.

“Comet! Boost! Sinker!”

The clone’s heads snapped toward the sound of her voice, and identical shit-eating grins broke across their sun-kissed faces.

“Commander!” Boost swept her into his arms and she embraced him tightly. Besides Wolffe they were the only survivor’s of their previous division and she had held a certain fondness for the men anyways while they had been on Kamino. She was quickly passed around to the other clones and waved for drinks to be served as the quartet settled into a booth. The men quickly caught her up on their recent escapades, some she already knew, some she didn’t, but still found herself laughing and gasping in equal measure as they recounted some of their more idiotic exploits across the galaxy.

“And where is your illustrious commander? Shouldn’t he be out celebrating as well?”

The clones exchanged uneasy looks and she felt her stomach twist as Comet said, “He’s with General Plo...he...doesn’t get out much anymore.”

Keeping her face decidedly neutral, she took a sip of her drink and said, “Anymore?”

Boost shifted uncomfortably and said, “After...after Ventress attacked, the commander lost an eye. It was healed and he received cybernetics with a killer scar to match, but...and he’ll never admit it and would shoot us right now if he heard, but he doesn’t like the stares. We already stand out enough on Coruscant, but even here at 79’s...with his brothers, Wolffe still doesn’t feel like he belongs.”

Shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts, Boost switched over to his usual easy-going smile and took her hand, dragging her out onto the dance floor, his brothers in tow. Letting go, he turned and began swaying to the beat that had begun thumping through the speakers. 

“C'mon Commander, dance with us.”

His gaze was so innocent, so open, that she couldn’t help but laugh and move along with them. The mix of alcohol, the dim lighting, and the clone’s infectious verve for life born of never quite knowing when you were going to get a blaster bolt to the chest, was intoxicating, and she found herself swept along happily and easily for the next few hours, mind lost in a world where there was no war, no death…

Later that night found her on top of a table, drink in hand, and swaying with a male Twi’lek on one side, and a clone from a division she didn’t know on the other. The other clones below were dancing as well, whooping and hollering at her and each other. From her precarious perch on the table, she had an unobstructed view of the crowd, which made it easy to see as the door to 79s slid open and Wolffe stepped through. 

Her body stuttered, then stilled only for the span of a heartbeat as their eyes met. Boost hadn’t been lying: an ugly scar slashed across Wolffe’s right eye, a milky cybernetic where a golden one had once sat. It was a jarring experience, and both had widened in recognition, then narrowed ever-so slightly as he saw her position. Throwing her current drink back, she began dancing once more, ensuring that Wolffe saw every roll and motion of her body as she firmly, but gently, pushed her partners off the ‘stage.’

She continued moving, eyes closed and head thrown back. It was as much for her benefit as Wolffe’s and part of her didn’t know when she opened her eyes again, if she wanted to see him directly in front of her or gone as if he had been nothing more than an elaborate spice-dream born of hope and insane, stupid longing.

It turned out to be neither. 

She had opened her eyes to see him sitting in a small booth in the corner, fingers idly playing with a drink in his hand. His eyes were roaming the bar, analyzing everyone and everything and, as his gazed brushed over hers, lifted his drink and one eyebrow in a mocking toast.

Gritting her teeth, she jumped down and made her way through the crowd, ignoring the groping, jeers, and propositions from his brothers as she made her way to Wolffe’s seat. Sliding in next to him and waving for another drink, she clasped her hands on the table in front of her and said nothing. Wolffe turned to her, face like stone, but thought she caught the barest glimmer in his eye as he sipped his drink and stared back at her.

Wolffe seemed perfectly content to let the silence stretch, and in those moments, she took the opportunity to really look at him. He was still in his 104th armor, the grey paint and wolf on his pauldron marking his command designation beyond a shadow of a doubt. His face was leaner than she had last seen, war and the elements weathering him down until only lines and angles remained. His eye was the least disconcerting thing about his appearance; where once she had seen humor mixed with the ever-present seriousness and dedication to duty, now there was only sardonic amusement born of coping with death day in and day out. It was a look she recognized well: she saw it every morning she looked in the mirror. 

The drink came and it seemed to jolt the pair out of their silent observations. Lifting the glass to her lips, she said dryly, “So...you’re still alive.”

He chuckled darkly, “Not for the Separtist’s lack of trying I promise you that Commander.”

 _Commander._ That damned word. It was Wolffe putting up walls where there didn’t need to be any and she ground her teeth, even as she smiled back saccharinely. “I see your sense of humor hasn’t lessened Wolffe.”

“Never.” He flashed a grin and, just for a second, looked like his old self, but then the mask resettled onto his features, eyes roaming the bar once more.

“Are you waiting for someone Commander? I can leave if you’d rather not have awkward introductions to deal with.”

The barbed question brought Wolffe’s gaze back to her and she knew this time that she saw the shadow of recognition and want in his gold eye and moved herself closer to the clone, thigh brushing against his plastoid armor.

“No...I’m just-” his comment stuttered to a halt as he felt her hand settle gently on his thigh, finger idly stroking up and down the firm muscle. 

"You're just what?” she murmured quietly, eyes never leaving his. She watched as his pupil expanded and contracted, lips opening ever-so-slightly as he exhaled in satisfaction at her idle teasing. Feeling bold, her hand roved higher and gently slid under the codpiece to where she felt a hardness that was most definitely not plastoid underneath the regulation blacks all clones wore. 

Wolffe gasped at that, knees slamming against the bottom of the table, and she had to stifle a grin as he quickly rearranged his features to one of cold detachment as some of his brother’s heads turned their way.

Once their gaze had moved on to more interesting distractions, Wolffe turned to her, eyes narrowed, and growled, “Little tease.”

She brought her face inches from his and hissed, “That’s for not contacting me. And this,” she squeezed ever so slightly, “Is for every night I spent thinking about you.” She pulled away and Wolffe hissed at the lack of contact, but she crossed her arms, eyebrow cocked, “And what of you commander? How did you spend your nights?”

Wolffe growled low in his throat, and leaned in, nose brushing hers, “I spent it dreaming of doing _this._ ” He pressed his lips to hers and his tongue slid into her mouth, swallowing her gasp of pleasure and surprise. He tasted of war, death, sadness, and heartbreak, in short, everything that she did, and her hands clutched at his shoulder plates, attempting to bring him closer. Wolffe merely snaked his arms around her torso and slid her onto his lap, the cold plastoid making her gasp as it hit the back of her thighs. Her dress was short, barely brushing the tops of her thighs, and Wolffe took advantage, snaking a gloved hand underneath to palm her sex.

She bucked lightly against the sensation and pulled away from Wolffe, lips already swollen and bruised. He cocked an eyebrow at her, fingers toying with the scrap of material covering her heat, and hummed. 

“Awaiting orders commander.”

A spark of heat shot through her core and she pressed her lips to the shell of Wolffe’s ear as she hissed, “Touch me.”

She bit his earlobe gently and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck as he sunk two fingers inside of her. 

_Holy fuck._ She could feel every callous and ridge as Wolffe slowly pumped in and out of her, and she bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood to keep her moans at bay. 

"Every time we came back from battle, I thought about contacting you," Wolffe hissed against her neck, fingers still moving, "Just to hear your voice and see if you still cared.."

"I cared Wolffe," she gasped, throat tight with the strain of keeping her voice quiet, "I looked through the casualty list every night, heart in my throat, waiting to see your name. But you're here and-" She sucked a sharp breath between her teeth as Wolffe abruptly removed his hand from her and watched as he slowly wiped his shining digits on a napkin lying on the table.

Not wanting to beg, she merely squirmed against Wolffe's armored thigh, trying to find some sense of friction…

"Not here," Wolffe rumbled against her throat, "If I'm gonna take you _cyar'ika_ , it'll be where I can worship you, not in a dirty bar like a Hutt."

He pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat and she felt his lips curl as her pulse jumped with his words.

"My place. I have an apartment on the Upper Levels...much more private than the barracks. You've never been one to share, have you Wolffe?"

He didn't answer, merely stood and she slid off his lap to land squarely in front of the trooper.

"Let's go." His voice came from behind, oddly modulated, and she saw that Wolffe had slid his helmet back on over his features. His hands clutched at her waist as he prodded her forward and she had never been more thankful for the dimness of the bar as they weaved their way through the drunken clones and patrons. It would make it difficult for them to place her and even if they recognized Wolffe's armor, they wouldn't remember the woman he was with and she intended to keep it that way, for Wolffe's sake more than hers. She was high enough in the GAR hierarchy to get away with a trooper dalliance, but Wolffe was putting his commission on the line and knew it with every step he took that led them closer to her apartment. 

The airtaxi ride was mercifully short, the tension and silence between them heavy. Wolffe waited a few meters away while she settled the bill, helmeted face roaming across the various structures surrounding the metal building and jumped slightly as she strode past into the lobby and into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Wolffe had her pinned between his armored body and the elevator wall, arms on either side, barring her in.

Neither of them moved, merely faced the other and she could see her own reflection distorted back. She dropped her gaze, not wanting to look, but a black-gloved hand clutched her chin and tilted her face back up. 

"Hey." It was the gentlest she had ever heard his voice since the bar, and his thumb stoked her cheek as he said, "You don't need to hide _cyar'ika_...you have the face and mind of a warrior and you never, ever have to hide that from me."

"So don't hide from me either Wolffe. Let me see you." As she spoke, her hands clasped either side of his helmet and, ignoring the dirt and grime, slowly lifted it off his head.

Gold and white met her own dark ones and she didn't look away from either as, with a soft ding, the doors opened. 

Soldier nor commander moved. It was though they were waging their own private battle of who would break first and Wolffe's hand shot out to catch the door, his other still clutching her chin.

Gently disentangling herself from his grip, she walked past and silently down the hallway, helmet still tucked underneath her arm. Wolffe followed like a ghost behind her as she opened the door to her apartment.

Placing the helmet gently on a table near the door, she turned back, mouth opening to speak, but Wolffe's mouth met hers and he seemed intent on devouring her as he walked her backwards to the bed. She didn't fight, nor did she want to, as her back bounced against the mattress. Her legs and hips dangled off the edge and it took all of her self-control to not snap them together as Wolffe kneeled in front of her.

His hands rubbed up and down her thighs, ever so slowly pushing her dress higher up her torso until all but her chest was exposed to him. With a flick of his finger, her underwear went flying across the room and her legs were thrown over Wolffe's broad shoulders.

His cybernetic eye seemed to glow with the same intensity as his natural one as Wolffe said very softly, "This is what we're going to do cyar'ika: you're going to keep your hands to yourself and I'm going to make you feel so good you won't be able to think about being with anyone else and if you do, it’ll be my name on your lips instead of theirs. How does that sound?" His last words brushed her cunt and she bucked her hips both at the stimulation and his words.

"Y-yes.."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Yes what?"

"Yes... _commander."_

"That's better." He licked a stripe up her heat and she gasped, head falling back against the sheets.

"Wolffe…"

He was as good as his word, licking and sucking on her in equal measure and adding his fingers into the mix, turning a Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic into a whimpering mess. Through it all, she caught his whispers of "good girl, such a beautiful girl, I missed you so much _cyar'ika_ …"

With a cry, she unspooled, back arching as a white-hot blaze of pleasure rocked through her. Wolffe kept up his ministrations, licking and caressing her through the aftershocks. Pressing gentle kisses to her thighs, he gently disentangled her weak legs from his shoulders and stood over her. In the dim lighting, she could see the shine on his lips from her and made to sit up, but a hand wrapped itself around her throat.

"Oh we're not finished yet _cyar'ika_ ," Wolffe hissed against her ear and she tried to turn to snap back, but a gentle pressure at her throat had her sucking in a breath and clenching her thighs together as a wave of arousal rocked through her. 

"Dress. Off." The pressure around her throat slackened and she quickly complied, tossing the material somewhere in her room to get lost. Wriggling up the bed, she watched as Wolffe stepped back and began removing his armor. It was a painstakingly slow process, one she didn't have time for.

Snaking a hand down between her legs, she began rubbing her clit, watching as each piece fell to the ground. Wolffe didn't notice, too lost in removing and unbuckling, at least until a gasp slipped through her lips.

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as he beheld the sight in front of him. 

"What are you doing _cyar'ika_?" His voice was as dangerous as she'd ever heard it and it only served to spur her on, a slow, lazy grin spreading across her features.

"Better hurry Commander. Before…" she sucked in a breath and heard Wolffe snarl as pieces began clattering to the floor faster than before. 

For her part, she was lost in the sensation of touching herself, the mounting pleasure in her abdomen steadily growing…

And her hands were suddenly snatched by the wrists and pinned above her head. Wolffe's gaze was positively feral as he hovered above her, his cock leaking, and her lips curled as she slid her gaze back up to meet Wolffe’s.

"I told you to keep your hands to yourself. You disobeyed a direct order," he hissed between clenched teeth. "And you know what that means don't you?"

His cock edged toward her entrance and she couldn't help the grin that split across her face as she said, "Punishment? And what did you have in mind Commander?"

"This." At that, he sheathed himself inside her and began snapping his hips against hers with a ferocity that had her seeing stars. His hands never left her wrists, but lowered his mouth to hers and licked deep into her mouth. She tasted herself on his tongue and surged upwards to get more of it, but Wolffe pulled back, a cruel smile on his lips.

"You're being punished Commander remember?"

His hips snapped against hers, as if for emphasis, and her back arched.

"Doesn't...doesn't seem so bad to me." she ground out, breath coming in short bursts as the coil in her belly began to tighten…

And Wolffe pulled away. The sudden emptiness had her keening involuntarily, looking up to snarl at Wolffe. 

He cocked an eyebrow. "How is it now _cyar'ika_?" He moved forward to kiss her and growled as she attempted to wrest free of his grip on her wrists to touch anything to ease the ache between her legs.

"Ah. Ah." Wolffe pressed his body against hers and she felt his slick cock press against her abdomen and heard the strain in his own voice as he murmured against her, "Have we learned the consequences of disobedience?"

"For now."

His eyes narrowed but pressed a heavy kiss to her mouth, nibbling on her lip as he rose back on his elbows to fill her once more. He set his relentless pace from before and the familiar coil in her belly began to blossom again.

Wolffe was on his knees, hands clutching her hips in a bruising grip as he pounded relentlessly into her. She watched as his eyes roamed from where their bodies met, and up to her own, staring steadily back at him with nothing but lust and absolute trust in him.

That was enough for him. Wolffe came with a shout, hips stuttering as he clutched her hips. He continued moving as he emptied himself into her and slid a hand between their joined bodies, fingers playing with her clit.

"Wolffe!" The knot came undone and it was searing in its ecstasy, her vision going black for a second as the wave of euphoria crashed over her. 

With a deep sigh, her back fell against the mattress and Wolffe crawled above her to press a gentle kiss to her lips, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, nose nudging hers.

"Yes?" she breathed, "That was…"

She trailed off and Wolffe looked like a self-satisfied Lothcat as he said, "I practiced just like you said commander. Somehow though...nothing quite came close to you."

"I'm glad to see some of us got some practice in," she huffed. "After all, there _is_ a war going on."

Wolffe's playful expression turned serious as he said quietly, "I never knew if I was going to see you again and I knew that if I did, it would be quick and most likely not in the most ideal circumstances. If...if you had still wanted me, I wanted to make sure it would be everything you deserved and more _cyar'ika_."

Her heart swelled and she pressed a gentle kiss to Wolffe, as he disentangled themselves to go and get a washcloth to clean her and him up. The warm water felt good and she hummed quietly as Wolffe treated her as if she were the most precious material in the galaxy.

Once finished, he climbed into the bed and she curled herself against him, just like they had done years before on a rain-soaked planet.

"Sleep love," she whispered, tracing his scar gently with a forefinger. "You're safe here."

"Wherever you are," Wolffe mumbled, voice heavy with exhaustion, "...is...home."

His voice trailed off into quiet, steady breaths and she sighed quietly. Placing her head on Wolffe's chest, she let the steady thrumming of his heart and breathing lull her into a dreamless sleep alongside him.


	3. Secundum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She stiffened as a tuxedoed arm slid into her line of sight and placed some credits directly next to hers. 
> 
> She didn't dare turn, not until the dice had rolled, landing directly on black. 
> 
> The figure behind her huffed. "Not bad. Still...number three would've been safer."
> 
> Turning, she found herself face to face with a figure in a Loth-wolf mask. One golden eye glittered back from the depths, the other a milky white.

She downed the drink, grimacing at the fuel taste as it hit the back of her tongue. The bartender wordlessly slid another glass in front of her and she swirled this one idly, watching the amber liquid almost, but not quite, tip over the edge of the glass. There was only so long she could keep sitting at this particular bar without starting to look conspicuous and here on Canto Bight, that was a difficult task indeed.

Two years had passed since she had found her bed empty, Wolffe gone, but a holorecording on her nightstand. Disappointed, but not surprised, she keyed it up.

_"I'm sorry I had to say goodbye this way but General Plo commed and we're heading to Cato Neimoidia and I don't think we'll be back for a while. They might be cowards but those sleemos sure know how to dig in like a bad fungus."_

His lips twitched and she couldn't help but chuckle quietly in agreement.

_"Anyways, I just...I wanted to say…"_ Wolffe looked frustrated and uncomfortable and slapped the plastoid in frustration.

_"Ah kriff. You know what? Forget it. I'll tell you myself when we get back. Take care of yourself and...watch out for kitchen countertops."_

His cybernetic closed lazily as the holo ended and she couldn't help but play it again, watching every minuscule twitch and flicker of expression as it crossed his face. Her comm had beeped shortly after the playback and she had slid the disk into her pocket as she left, unwilling and untrusting to leave it in her apartment unattended. If she was being honest with herself, she just wanted to keep Wolffe close just a little bit longer until he came back.

He never had.

The Jedi had fallen, the Empire had risen, and she had run for her life. She wasn't important enough in the Kaminoan hierarchy to be slated for immediate termination following Palpatine's rise, but why wait around? She still had her armor and allies, with stashes and safe houses across the galaxy; she had been a mercenary long before Jango and the skills had never left. Thus, had accumulated two years of hopping from planet to planet, taking whatever job she could to keep credits coming in, and an ear to the ground.

She wasn't stupid, she knew the clones wouldn't have turned on the Jedi without good reason, and galactic treason had not been on her list of sins those celebate monks would commit. She knew that some had escaped as well, Cut Lawquane being an invaluable and unexpected asset in helping her in her search. Thus far, she'd been unlucky, leads either winding up a dead end or dead bodies. Canto Bight had been her best lead so far, an anonymous contact of Cut's swearing on their life on solid intel of renegade clones.

"It's rude to keep a lady waiting," she muttered, downing the most recent glass and standing. She tottered slightly, heels were never her strong suit and had chosen a pair she thought she'd be able to easily navigate, but that was clearly not the case. Tossing some credits onto the counter, she began wandering the crowd. It was a private event, a masquerade hosted by one of the new warmongers for the new regime, and the sea of faceless expressions were both a boon and curse. She had been able to hide easily, but her contact could as well. She had been told they would be wearing an animal mask and approach her directly, with a code phrase of "I'm betting on fathier three tonight." 

As her eyes scanned the crowd, she saw a fish, snake, horse, and something that vaguely resembled a rancor stand out in her immediate periphery. None of them paid her any mind though and she huffed, striding toward a dice table. Tossing some credits down, she said, "I'm betting on black."

"Really? I'm betting on fathier number three tonight."

She stiffened as a tuxedoed arm slid into her line of sight and placed some credits directly next to hers. 

She didn't dare turn, not until the dice had rolled, landing directly on black. 

The figure behind her huffed. "Not bad. Still...number three would've been safer."

Turning, she found herself face to face with a figure in a Loth-wolf mask. One golden eye glittered back from the depths, the other a milky white. 

Never changing expression, she replied smoothly, using the code response, "Number three? I'd rather hedge my bets on five."

"He's been out a long time...you're sure he's still got what it takes?"

Stepping toward him, she tucked her fingers under the suit's lapels, sliding them up until they skimmed the jawline of the mask.

"Hmmm...should we go and find out?"

A strong, calloused hand engulfed her own and led them expertly through the crowd, out the door and through the winding streets of the pleasure playground for the rich and powerful. Despite the twists and turns, she committed the route to memory, but was still taken aback as a nondescript door opened to reveal a home that looked exactly the same as all the other curved buildings of the city and they slid inside.

Automatic lights flipped on as they entered, and she saw the drop of her contact's shoulders as they were finally out of public eyesight. The room was small but cozy, a bed pushed against the farthest corner of the room, a kitchenette complete with table and chairs on the opposite end. It was a room designed for someone who would be spending the least amount of time in it and why would they, surrounded by endless entertainment and pleasures on end. 

The mask was placed on the table and Wolffe turned. 

The clone's accelerated aging was evident in his features, with a few more lines around his eyes and mouth she didn't remember and his jet-black hair had a small shock of grey near the temples; otherwise he was still the same man she had known for years. The biggest difference was his eyes. They looked haunted, hunted by a past and those whose cruelty and determination knew no limits when it came to finding rogue clones and "decommissioning" them.

Striding forward and placing her mask down next to Wolffe's, she said quietly, "So…"

"So." The former commander looked at a loss of words, the suave facade falling at her unmasked gaze as it narrowed.

"Care to explain this?" She gestured toward the masks.

"Two years...no message, no word, all I get is that Master Plo is dead on Cato Neimoidia, the Jedi are traitors and your brothers..." she swallowed hard. "Killed children."

Wolffe groaned, face falling into his hands as he sat down heavily on the bed. She remained standing, waiting.

"After...after Order 66, it was like being in a dream...a nightmare where you can't control what your body is doing, your mind just beating wordlessly against your skull as you watch yourself. I didn't kill Master Plo, I was on the other side of the planet when the order came in, but I might as well have...I was the one to relay the command to the fighters he was with. He's dead because of me." 

The admission was simple, dispassionless, but she knew from Wolffe's refusal to meet her gaze and the tension in his shoulders, that it was anything but and would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

"When I finally...woke up I guess you could call it, I ran. A few other brothers had gotten out and gave me their intel. Through them, I met Cut and he told me about you. I had been looking for you since I got out and this seemed too good to be true so I needed to check it out for myself...and here you are."

"Here I am." She stepped forward so she was standing directly in front of Wolffe. Catching his chin, she tilted his head up. His golden eye was brimming but with a few blinks, it was gone. Clutching his face in her hands, she traced the line of his cheekbones, lingering at the edges of his lips as she did. She thought of all the horror she had seen, all the chaos and destruction from the war and its aftermath and knew that, no matter how bad it had been for her, it had been even worse for Wolffe. Born and bred for war, turned into a puppet on a string, against his brothers and general, was a personal type of hell she would never understand, but she could empathize and maybe that would have to be enough.

"Wolffe…" 

His eyes flickered up and then shut as her mouth pressed against his. He sighed, mouth opening for her tongue to slide against his. He tasted of liquor, malty and dark, and she massaged the muscle, drinking him in as he did to the alcohol before. 

Wolffe's hands clutched at her, sliding up and down the silken fabric of her dress, calluses catching the thin material. 

Breaking apart, she sucked in a breath that immediately turned to a sharp gasp as Wolffe began nipping and kissing her chest, the deep-V giving him easy access.

"So soft," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her sternum, "Even better than I remember…"

Rising, his grip tightened on her body and her palms slapped against his chest as he pulled her in. They were so close, she could feel every button and clasp on his suit through her dress, as well as something else pressing into her abdomen.

"Did you bring a vibroblade Commander or are you just happy to see me?"

Wolffe's gaze darkened at the title, and he spun so her back was to the bed, pressing her back so her knees hit the edge and collapsed backwards onto the mattress. 

Wolffe shucked off his jacket, tossing thousands of credits worth of material carelessly across the floor, and crawled so he was hovering over her. Humming softly, she didn't meet Wolffe's gaze but instead ran them down his chest and to his belt. Unbuckling it with a flick of her wrist, she slid a hand down through the material and Wolffe bucked his hips as her hand brushed his erection.

"Ahhhh...no weapon after all. Well I suppose you are cleared to continue on Commander."

She made to roll out from under him but, faster than the eye could follow, Wolffe had his belt off his hips and around her wrists, tying her to the bed frame.

She stiffened for a moment at the suddenness of the movement but immediately relaxed. She was able to slide her wrists out at any moment and knew Wolffe remembered their safe word from all those years prior. The glint in his gaze almost dared her to try and get away, but then his lips were on hers again and all thoughts of escape evaporated as Wolffe slid a hand underneath her and drew her upwards, pressing her body against his in an arc as he unzipped her gown. 

Cool air brushed across her back, then her shoulders and chest, then finally her abdomen as Wolffe slowly dragged the fabric off. 

He cocked an eyebrow, lips curling well... _wolfishly_. "Nothing underneath? Who exactly did you think you were meeting tonight?"

She shrugged, not an easy feat with hands still bound above her. Spreading her legs, she watched as Wolffe's grin turned absolutely ravenous as she bared herself to him.

"Who says it was for anyone? Have you ever tried having a string up your ass-" She threw her head back, words lost in a gasp as Wolffe's tongue slid into her heat.

"Fuck Wolffe…" she bucked her hips against the sensation, legs involuntarily tightening around his head as Wolffe continued sucking and licking her cunt. 

His hands shot out, pinning her hips to the bed, and she groaned as Wolffe hummed against her, the vibrations sending sparks up her spine. In response, she dug her heels into his mid back, pulling him closer.

Wolffe didn't say a word, merely nipped the soft flesh of her inner thigh and began licking and biting her as if he hadn't eaten for days and she was a full course meal. It was so Wolffe, done absolutely his way but with concessions for all parties involved and he listened to her body as she bucked and moaned against him, repeating movements that had made her respond particularly loud to him. It seemed to go on for hours, this slow, agonizing, pleasure-filled torture, which is why her orgasm took her by surprise. With a sharp gasp, her ankles locked around his back and she arched, ignoring the strain in her shoulders as Wolffe murmured soft praises against her, tongue continuing to stroke her through the high.

It seemed to go on for an eternity and her shoulders were sore as she slowly came back to herself, settling once again onto the mattress. Unhooking her ankles, she pushed against Wolffe's shoulders and he slid back, lips curled in self-satisfaction as he took in her breathless, bound body.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, crawling above her to place a gentle kiss to her mouth. She merely hummed contentedly, tongue tracing his mouth, tasting herself as she lifted her legs and locked her ankles around Wolffe's midsection.

"I'll take that as a yes." Disentangling himself from her embrace, he began unbuttoning his dress shirt. She merely watched as tanned and scarred skin slowly made their appearance and, as the shirt was tossed just as carelessly as the jacket, she began writhing slightly as the throbbing between her legs began to spark once more.

Wolffe cocked his scarred eyebrow. "See something you like?"

He deliberately took his time taking his trousers off, lip curled as he watched her.

Standing bare above her, she let her gaze rove up and down the clone commander lazily. New and old scars criss-crossed his body, a matrix of survival and determination, and she watched as a few drops of precum leaked from his straining erection and she bared her teeth to him. 

"Something you need, commander? Some relief perhaps..? Well...you can have it...if you answer one question."

Sliding her hands out of the belt's restraints, she crawled forward so she was kneeling at the edge of the bed. Straightening so she was eye-level with Wolffe, she whispered, "That holo...what did you want to say?"

Wolffe stilled. It was akin to watching an animal backed into a corner and she waited in silence for his response.

"Ahhh...well…" Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, "It doesn't matter...not anymore."

"I think it does. Please Wolffe."

She clasped her hands around his neck and scratched the base of his scalp gently. Wolffe groaned and rolled his head back into her touch. With a sigh, he brought his face level with hers, pressing his forehead to her. Gold and white blurred her vision, but she refused to look or back away to better see the man whom she had thought dead for years. No amount of time together was ever going to be enough and she feared that if she looked away now for even a second, Wolffe would slip through her fingers once again, nothing more than a desert mirage born of desperation.

"What I wanted to say...was after the war, when it was all over...if you'd consider having a future with...me. I know clones weren't and aren't technically citizens, no rights and all but-"

He was cut off as she kissed him hard. She couldn't express the overwhelming feeling that had exploded in her chest at his words but hoped the response was sufficient and, based off of Wolffe's muffled curse against her lips and the twitch of his cock against her abdomen, it was.

Breaking apart, she started at the top of his scar and worked her way down to his mouth, pressing kisses against the raised and lightened flesh. Just before she reached his swollen lips, she murmured, "Wherever you are is home."

Wolffe sucked in a breath at her repeating his words from so many years ago, but was surprisingly gentle as he led her backwards down onto the mattress once more. Their lips never separated, the time they had spent apart making it feel as though that if they broke, it would be permanent and never-ending. Words were beyond the two of them: the former instructor and former commander relying solely on instinct and unspoken signals that had been born and bred on the battlefield, and both sighed as Wolffe sunk into her.

Unlike the rough fucking of before, this was slow, languorous, and she thought she finally understood the phrase "making love." Wolffe still set the pace, his broad frame encompassing and filling her senses with nothing but his scent, sweat, and touch, but she felt nothing but safety and adoration from the Commander who so struggled with his emotions and words. 

"Wolffe…" she murmured, rocking her hips up to meet his as he mouthed her neck. She knew there would be marks tomorrow morning and she clenched against Wolffe's cock as she thought of wearing his mark under her armor. It would be their secret, and Wolffe groaned at her clenching, bringing his forehead to meet hers.

"Look at me _cyar'ika_...I want you to look me in the eyes as you come."

He slid a hand down her abdomen and began toying with her clit, the callouses of his fingers making her buck against him. He kept winding her tighter and tighter, his cock sliding in and out of her with a methodical, but relentless pace, as his fingers pinched and rubbed her clit in equal measure.

The sensations were overwhelming but she obeyed her commander's orders, eyes never leaving his as she came.

_"Wolffe…"_ It had been a slow buildup, and when the dam finally broke, it was pulsing, pressing pleasure, and Wolffe captured her lips with his own, rumbling softly as her torso arched and pressed against him. In her haze, she felt Wolffe come as well, warmth filling her from the inside out and trickling down her leg. Wolffe clutched her against him as if she were the last lifeline in an ocean he was drowning in and she caught whispered words and phrases, some in Basic, others in Mando'a, but it all was lost on her as nothing mattered but the man she loved filling her with his seed. The future for the pair of them may be uncertain, but maybe something could come of it that would outlast them both.

A spark of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohoo! My first ever completed fic! Thank you for reading along, I hope you all enjoyed! <3


End file.
